


Thoughts of a dying man

by AvaJones



Series: Something to do with Hearts and Butterflies [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Feelings, Love, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock is Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:50:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaJones/pseuds/AvaJones
Summary: When Sherlock is away after the fall, tearing down Moriarty's network, he's having a hard time.When he gets into serious trouble, he thinks about the things he had done and neglected to do.





	Thoughts of a dying man

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shades of pain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080530) by [AvaJones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaJones/pseuds/AvaJones). 



> Please read Shades of Pain first. The story will make a lot more sense that way.  
> I love kudos and comments !  
> Happy reading!

Do you have any idea what you did to me? I imagine you don't. Although I like to think that in a way that you did. The way you made my head spin, the way I lost track of my musings every time just because you came into my head to interfere again.

Its been months now since leaving you. Ten to be precise. Three hundred and four days. Four hundred thirty-seven thousand seven hundred and twenty-five minutes. I have been all over the world. From America to Taiwan, from Russia to Australia, from China to South Africa. Sitting in planes, roaming the streets, infiltrating in his network, taking it apart one piece at the time. It's so much bigger than I had estimated it would be, and it took me longer than I had expected. It should have been just a couple of months, sixty-one days, ninety at most. But I keep discovering more. I miss you. I miss you being beside me, I miss your company. I know I made the right decision, taking this one on my own, but I wished I could have taken you with me. Without you, I feel incomplete, alone.

I am not a romantic man. Passionate, yes. Passionate about the things I really care about. And that's not just my Mindpalace, my experiments and The Work, but that includes you. I am passionate about you. The way you look, the way you act and the way you think. The way you took me into your heart, seeing things in me nobody else ever saw. I am passionate about the feelings you awoken inside me even though they were frightening at first. But I'm passionate about them now. The warmth and comfort it brought me. And I hope I managed to give you the same.

I hope I managed to give you peace, the opportunity to built yourself a life without me. I like to think about the life you are making for yourself right now, but I have to say that I am also scared for it. I always thought that I would come back to London, to you, and it frightens me to think that you don't need me anymore in your new and carefully build life. That whatever you have found for yourself is enough, that there is no place anymore in it for me. It would break me. But it seems like I am not coming back after all, so I worried myself about that for nothing.

At this moment I am lying in an abandoned alley, hidden away in the shadows, hoping they won't find me and torture me and keep me alive just to mess with my mind and trying to figure out who I'm working for. They don't know who I am, but somehow they figured out that I'm not who I said I was. They held me for two days, but I managed to escape. But they did instigate some damage to my transport. Not to severe, but still enough to distract me and slow me down. My body is shaking, there is a nasty cut on the back of my head that doesn't stop bleeding, and I'm very thirsty. I haven't had anything to drink for almost thirty-eight hours. And it's hot here. I notice that I have difficulty focusing my thoughts. I think I will not survive this one. I am crying. I am crying, not because of the pain they gave me or the ending of this all, I am crying because I will not see you again.

You know, this is the second time I cried in my whole adult life. Sure I've shred tears before, but those were out of physical pain, or part of an act. I once told you that I had full control over my body. You are the only thing except pain or drugs that manage to let me lose that control. My transport reacts on you. It does things out of itself, ignoring my instructions. You make my heart rate speed up. You make my skin blush and feel overheated. You make my head spin and my cock hard and you even make me cry. You did all of that. One man with all that power over me. I would never have thought it possible.

My body is cramping now. My muscles are sore and despite it all, my empty stomach is rumbling. I haven't eaten in five or six days, I can't remember precisely. The heat in this country is suffocating. It feels like dust in my lungs, sticky across my skin. I don't like this warmth. Have I told you that I covered myself up to hide away from my attackers? I'm wearing a turban and a djellaba, trying to mingle with the people in the streets, but I am to tall. The people here are shorter than in London, they all seem to have the same height as you. Or it could just be my imagination.

I thought I'd seen you once or twice while taking apart this network. One time I even approached the man who I thought was you. I thought you managed to figure out my deceiving and followed me. But when I touched his arm and he turned around he didn't even look like you. One part of me was glad that he wasn't you, the other part was very disappointed. I feel I have left a big part of myself behind in London. No, not just London, I left it with you. You are the part that I miss in myself, the part I needed to return too, so I could be whole again.  
But maybe it is for the best that I can't return to you. Although I seemed to make you happy, I also caused you so much pain. You seemed to worry yourself about me constantly. You were injured more times than I would have ever wanted you to. You even almost died because of me, more than once. I inflicted you pain and suffering, while all I wanted to do is to keep you safe and happy. But I failed you. When I imagine the look on your face when I spoke to you the last time, my heart breaks for you. That phone call was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my entire life. That was the first time I cried. I never wanted to hurt you, deceive you or make you part of all of this, but I did. I try not to think about that and to hold on onto the thought that you are happy now.

Maybe you're still at Bakerstreet, caring for Mrs Hudson, helping Lestrade with your own deduction skills. You're quite good at it, actually, but how could you not, you learned from the best.  
Maybe you changed your job and became a trauma surgeon again, doing what you do best. Working under stress, fixing people up, saving lives. The tremor in your hand is under control, so you could do that again, you know.  
Maybe you started dating again, found yourself a nice, lovely woman. Someone who fills your heart as you did mine.  
Maybe you start a family with her, becoming a father, a husband. I would hate that, to be honest. But then again, if it makes you happy, I'm happy too.

I always tried to hide the affection I felt for you, scared that it would drive you away. The first time I lied my eyes on you I already thought that you were an attractive man. Although I keep myself from that kind of sentiment, I can admire a beautiful sight when I see one. And you were one. Are one. I thought about forgetting the whole flatmate thing and seduce you, to have you for one night and then to get rid of you. It had been quite a while since I had sexual intercourse, but you were definitely my type. Even though you stated that you weren't gay, I know I could have persuaded you to give me pleasure. But I'm happy I didn't do that. You managed to give me so much more than just one night of gratification, you took it so much further. Not only the package you came into was attractive. You made me see that what's inside you is even more important. That was the thing that made the first crack in my shield. Your smile made my day. I tried to make you smile whenever I could, without you noticing, of course. But it became harder and harder. I taught you to well. You seemed to absorb my deduction skills and to use them whenever you wanted. I'm sure you've seen the affection in my eyes from time to time, but probably didn't notice how deep and real they really were.

In my mind I sometimes had you. I imagined that there wasn't anything we didn't know about each other. I imagined us sharing a kiss, cuddling on the sofa and even sharing our bed. I imagined stroking your body, making you shiver and beg. I imagined you doing the same to me. Holding me, cherishing me, kiss me all over and touch me where ever you could reach me.

I almost acted on it, a number of times. You remember that time in the hallway? You were so close and I could only see your perfect lips moving. I could hardly contain myself from taking those lips with my own, covering them, tasting them. To show you how much you mean to me. Or those times you were sitting in your chair, freshly from the shower, your hair damp and the morning paper in your hands? I had to hold myself from getting my fingers through that damp hair, to get that night gown off of you, always a bit disappointed that you weren't wearing mine. All those times I stood over your shoulder looking at the screen of your laptop, reading your blog or to see what you found when I asked you to search something for me. Those times I was so close to you, I could smell you. Remember that time we were handcuffed together? That's my favourite. That moment I acted. It wasn't much, but I was so happy just to hold your hand. I can still feel your fingers against my palm. I will cherish that moment for the rest of my life, how long that even will be.

I always tried to hide my affection for you, wishing you would never figure out what you meant to me. But now I wished that you had. I wished I could have taken you with me and that you were here. Holding me, comforting me. I still would cry, but my tears would be of happiness, of the fact that I had the chance to have you, spend my life with you, knowing that you admired me as much as I admire you.  
And I wished I could come back to you, and that I could find the courage to tell you how I really feel, despite the consequences. I know now how life feels without you, and it's not pleasant. I rather not have known this. If I had managed to come back home, I would have done everything to keep you in my life, even if that meant I have to accept the probably dull woman you decided to spent the rest of your life with. It's all good, as long as you're in my life.

But I am alone. I am severely dehydrated. It makes me mentally confused, and I have the feeling that I will go into shock any moment. I'm still crying. Hard sobs now, tears running down. I am surprised that there is even enough fluid in my body left to cry. It's selfish, crying over you. But you know me, I am a selfish man after all. You would forgive me for it, won't you?

 

You are a marvellous man, John Watson. Please live your life to the fullest for me. Love the people around you the way only you can, with all your heart. I just hope you'll think about me from time to time, remembering your mad roommate and the adventures we had, and that you smile about it. Please, don't forget me.

I love you, John. With all my heart. I love you more than life itself.

I'm sorry that I had to leave you, and I'm sorry that I'm not coming back after all. I'm going to close my eyes now, and embrace the darkness that awaits me. But thinking of you while I'm doing that, will make it all worth it.


End file.
